Shock Factor
by Nienna Nir
Summary: Super soldiers have amazing metabolism which is great for healing super fast. It's not so great if the super soldier needs anesthesia. Tony Stark has this stuff covered though because if there's a will there's a technological way. The problem with coming up with amazing technological solutions is that eventually you get in a situation where you have to field test them.


**Note**: In an earlier story in this series, Coulson Lives, but the Avengers might be the death of him, Tony discovered that Steve isn't affected by anesthesia. He constructed a technology based solution called the Neural Inhibitor. This is the story of the first field test. Please be advised that the depictions of injury may be disturbing.

* * *

It was bound to happen eventually. That's what Tony kept telling himself, his heart wasn't hammering, it wasn't. Adrenaline was all fine and good but let it control the situation and everything would get out of hand. Even superheroes weren't invincible. They'd planned for this, contingencies and contingencies to the contingencies and redundancies to cover those contingencies.

None of this made a damn bit of difference when the particle canon wielding aliens let off a shot right at Captain America's chest, the blast tearing clean through his better than kevlar suit and blowing him into a wall a hundred and fifty feet away.

He heard himself shout Steve's name and he'd honestly half expected to see the blond clamber out of the ruble with a put upon expression, clutching his ribs and bitching about Tony's total lack of understanding of what the coms were actually for.

Five seconds went by with no answer

Ten.

Thirteen.

"I'm... I'm okay,"

And that might have been the worst sound Tony had ever heard. Which was certainly saying something, because Tony Stark had heard the sound of his own heart stopping. He'd heard the last gasping breaths of the man who'd saved his own life dying in his arms. He'd heard the screams of children as terrorists pointed guns at them. And he'd heard the woosh of air past his head as he'd plummeted to his death though a wormhole.

And he knew that sound, and that sound was most definitely not okay.

"Coulson where are you?" Tony barked out, his tone holding only urgency and void of any other emotion. "Cap's down, the big ugly art deco building with the chuck out of the third floor."

"I'm on my way," Coulson answered. "I'm a few blocks out from that position. It's going to take me a couple minutes."

"Widow do you have eyes on him?" Tony asked, taking out one of the aliens. There weren't even that many of them and they looked like bloody space pirates. Tony gritted his teeth. Stupid bastards, coming down here with a big gun and making trouble.

"Negative," Natasha answered. "I'm a little busy." Coulson was too far, Nat was pinned down and Thor, he could see from here, had his hands full with a half dozen of their adversaries. Only one call left.

"Thor, round up the stragglers," He ordered, his voice calm and controlled. "Close down this party, Barton keep eyes on everyone, I'm going for Cap." He was honestly a little surprised when they gave him an affirmative. It wasn't that they hadn't all developed a sort of mutual respect. It was that, from the beginning, Steve was the one they all trusted hands down to make the call. Tony never liked admitting to not being the smartest in the room but Captain America's tactical genius was truly dizzying and even he couldn't deny that.

Tony swept down toward the half crumbled building, debris crunching beneath his feet as he hit the ground, scanning the landscape for some sign of where Steve had ended up in the pile of rubble that had once been a market street.

"Cap!" he called out. "Give me something here!"

"Over here," Steve's voice was faint but it was more than enough for JARVIS to hone in on. Tony scrabbled over the chunks of concrete littering the remains of the pavement, the area was in ruins but he could just make out a streak of bright blue beneath the rubble. He grasped hold of the nearest slab of battered building, lifting it and tossing it aside.

He let out a curse, desperately hoping a split second later that Jarvis hadn't had him on vox. Steve's suit was shredded down the left hand side and a gaping wound was bleeding out beneath his ribs, his hand pressed over the ragged gap as blood oozed up between his fingers, his face ashen and his lips so pale they were almost white. He looked up at Tony with wide, frightened eyes and for one horrible moment Tony could see the kid in his late twenties and not the man he tended to think of as much, much older than himself.

"Coulson I'm going to need medical here, now," Tony informed, his voice surprisingly even as he knelt in the rubble, retracting his face plate as he tore off the gauntlets.

"Already have them inbound," Phil assured. "I'm on my way to you."

"Shouldn't be unarmed in a combat zone," Steve murmured, he was trembling from pain and shock his breathing raspy. Tony's hand ran over his forehead, brushing the hair from a gash in the side of his head.

"It's ok, Hawkeye has my back," Tony assured gently, pulling a small bladed knife from the hip of his armor. He grasped up the tatters of the Steve's uniform pulling them away from his ribs and cutting off the remains of his undershirt, balling it up and pressing it to the wound with his bare hands to slow the bleeding.

"Look at me," He said firmly, drawing Steve's eyes to him as he tried to keep pressure on the wound. "You're going to be ok, just breathe with me, Cap." It was bad. The kevlar uniform was completely destroyed and the undershirt was already soaked through with blood. Tony kept his eyes locked on Steve's face holding his gaze with the least panicked expression he could muster. His hands weren't shaking, which surprised him but he tried not to think about it, about the feeling of something soft and malleable beneath his palm that felt suspiciously not like skin, about the blood, far too much blood.

"I'm going to bleed out before medical gets here," Steve declared, his voice hoarse with pain.

"You're not going to bleed out," Tony replied calmly. Pushing from his mind the fact that he was using the the remains of a blood soaked undershirt to hold in internal organs. "Now I know you're not stupid. You need to not panic and keep your heart rate slow." He could feel Steve's pulse in the arteries beneath his palm and he drew in a slow, steady breath, willing the other man to follow his lead. Steve rasped as he struggled to even out his breathing and Tony murmured to him soothingly.

"What's the status out there?" he demanded into the coms, careful to keep his voice neutral as he gave Steve an encouraging smile.

"We've got the last of them!" Natasha declared. "I'm on my way."

"What's his status?" Coulson chose that moment to scramble over the crumbling street. He skidded up short, his breath catching in his throat. There was no sign of emotion on his face but his eyes were wide, horror in his expression as blood seeped up under Tony's hand, pooling on the ground around them. "I need an ETA on medical and I need the quinjet here, now." he barked into the com.

"I need your jacket, Phil," Tony stated firmly. "I'll buy you a new one, something really classy and bespoke." Phil didn't argue, he'd already shed the jacket, handing it over before Tony could finish the sentiment.

"Barton, I'm going to need you down here, now!" Tony ordered as he folded the jacket into a bandage. Steve let out a pained cry as Tony pressed down on the wound. He gritted his teeth as he tried to stem the flow of blood without causing more pain. Steve choked on each breath and Tony made soft hushing sounds, unsure if Steve's distress was from pain or his lungs collapsing or both.

"What's his..." Natasha let out a string of curses as she leapt over a mangled car to land a few yards from them, her eyes wide.

"What's going on?" Clint's voice came back over the com.

"Just get here Clint!" Natasha snapped, kneeling at Steve's head, her fingers gently running through his hair.

"I'm on my way!" Clint's voice was strained but Tony ignored it, he had bigger concerns at the moment.

"Coulson, give Widow your field kit so she can at least clean out that head wound and get the blood out of his eyes." Tony ordered, shushing Steve gently as he let out a pained moan. "Where's the Big Guy?"

"Thor has him" Phil replied, handing over his first aid kit.

"There's a brilliant idea," Tony rolled his eyes. "Thor, talk to me."

"Doctor Banner is... releasing his frustrations," Thor's voice sounded a bit weary and Tony allowed himself a smile that Steve had just enough strength to return. For reasons none of them could figure out, Bruce included, the Hulk seemed to take a fiendish delight in tormenting Thor.

"Just try to keep him from making modern art out of mangled busses if you can," Tony stated. He gripped Steve's chin gently as the blond's eyes slowly slipped shut. "Cap, stay with me."

"I'm good, just need to catch my breath," Steve gasped, a trickle of blood staining his lips crimson.

"Coulson, where's my medical?" Tony demanded,

"They're still five minutes out," Phil answered, his gun drawn, covering them just in case.

"Help's on the way," Tony stated assuringly. "You're going to be fine, Cap, but you can't check out on me, keep talking."

"It's a lot of blood, Tony," Steve whispered, his eyes glassy.

"I've seen worse," Tony assured, his fingers digging into the wound as Coulson's coat darkened beneath his hand, sticky with blood.

"Did you operate on yourself in Afghanistan?" Steve asked, a wet cough shaking his shoulders. "I was always curious."

"Yeah, sort of," Tony nodded. "It was mostly Yensen, It's hard to keep your hands steady with a big hole in your chest, am I right?" A small smile curled Steve's lips, his eyes growing heavy.

"Don't go slacking off," Tony admonished. "Keep your eyes open."

"Give it to me straight, doc," Steve slurred.

"Very funny," Tony gave him a firm glare. Steve met his gaze with watery eyes, most likely from the pain but Tony didn't care, watching Captain America cry was definitely not on his list of things to do today. "Barton where are you?" he barked out.

"Don't get your metal panties in a bunch I'm..." Clint's voice came back amid the sound of hurried footsteps over crunching rubble, close enough to be heard over the air as well as over the com. Clint hissed out a curse, his pace quickening even more and he skidded to Tony's side.

"Gimmie the neural arrow," Tony ordered, holding out his free hand. "Take it easy, Cap, it's going to be fine." Clint scrabbled for the arrow, ripping the tip off.

"Tony, I," Steve's voice wavered

"You don't get to do that," Tony interrupted firmly, his fingers closing over the arrow tip as Barton dropped it in his hand. "Now you breathe, in and out, come on, don't make me resort to tired innuendo here to keep you focused, Steve."

"It must be bad, you never call me Steve." Rogers observed, Tony reached around to the back of his neck, gently pressing the neural inhibitor in place. Steve relaxed visibly, his vision growing hazy without the constant pain to ground him.

"I'm going to call you 'shut the hell up and do as you're told' here in a minute," Tony declared sternly, shifting his weight to better keep pressure on the wound. "Hawkey, I want you to get the Big Guy, you know how he is for Thor." Clint was staring at Steve with a horrified expression, his hands trembling.

"Clint!" Tony snapped.

"Yeah, I've got it," Clint nodded breathlessly. "You're ok here?"

"We're fine, go," Tony assured.

"Medical's here!" Phil called, waving them over.

"Tony, this is really bad," Steve let out a cough, blood bubbling up between his lips.

"It's total shit," Tony agreed softly, moving aside as the medics swarmed over them. He let his bloody hand settle on Steve's forehead. "But you've got this, you can crash land into a glacier and wait seventy years for a rescue then this is a cake walk." Steve gave him a nod and Tony stood to his feet, allowing the medics the room they needed to work.

"What has happened?" Thor landed mere paces away, the ground rumbling beneath his feet, a stricken expression on his face.

"Doc, have you got all the specs on the new neural inhibitor?" Tony asked, moving to stand beside Thor. "This is our first field test, I'm going to want data."

"Everything you sent over," the medic nodded. "It should make treatment a lot easier. I'll see that you get the files personally."

"He's going to be fine," Tony stated firmly, wiping his hands on the corner of the cape Thor held out to him. "Phil have you got containment?" Coulson gave him a sharp nod, distancing himself a few paces to bark orders to the clean up crew. The young medic checking Steve's vitals looked up at Tony.

"We need to get him evacked asap." She declared, concern clear in her expression.

"Ok, Nat you stay with Cap," Tony nodded in confirmation. "I'll escort you guys in to Medical." He swept up his gauntlets, pulling them on as he turned to Thor.

"You ok, buddy?" he asked softly. Thor gave him a stunned, detached look before squaring his shoulders and nodding. "I need you to keep things together here for me, Clint and Phil have their hands full. Keep an eye on them, make double sure everything's secure."

"Yes, Anthony," Thor nodded, gripping his shoulder gently before taking off to secure the perimeter and check on the others.

"Get him on the quinjet!" the medic ordered, frowning as they hoisted Steve onto a stretcher. "Mr. Stark, sir?"

"Tell me what you need," he answered, motioning Natasha ahead, her hand still soothing Steve's hair as the medical team picked their way over the debris of crushed buildings and mangled cars.

"Data transfer is down, I can call in his condition over the coms but if Medical had my report," Her voice trailed off helplessly.

"Give it to me, I can beat you there," he nodded. She handed over her tablet and he plugged it into the suit, transferring the data. He handed it back, giving her a nod and took off in a streak of red and gold. He heard the quinjet taking off behind him, the rush of wind, the low hum of the approaching helicarrier. It went by in a blur of blue skies and white fluffy clouds and gun metal gray landing deck. He slid to a stop, retracting his faceplate just as the receiving medical team burst onto the deck.

"Give me your pad," he ordered one of the medics who was rushing toward him. "I have his assessments." The exchange took only seconds and he handed the tablet back, retracting his helmet.

He hurried across the deck after the medical team as the jet landed, Steve's gurney was rolling down the ramp before it could even touch the deck, Natasha at his side, her hand holding fast to Steve's.

"He's lost a lot of blood," one of the medics declared as the stretcher emerged, Natasha pulled back, making room for Tony.

"Steve, you still with us?" He asked, helping to guide the gurney and still stay out of the way for the medical team to work. Steve was pale, his lids only half open and his eyes so hazy it was clear he could no longer focus enough to see. "You're going to be fine, we've got our best people on this."

"Tony, the team" the words were a whisper and Tony grasped hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Everyone's good, Cap," Tony assured as Steve's eyes slid shut. "They're safe. Don't worry, I'll look out for them for you." Steve's hand went limp, falling from Tony's fingers as the medical team raced ahead. Tony drew in a shaky breath, watching them go.

"Get the crash cart!" Someone shouted. "Somebody remove the inhibitor!" He felt Natasha's arm bush his shoulder and he jogged to catch up with her as she hurried after the medical team.

"Natasha, go with them," Tony stated as they sprinted toward the medical bay. "I need five minutes to get out of the suit."

"Tony," she looked as if she were about to say something but seemed to think better of it, her hand brushing over his armored wrist as she quickened her steps. Tony's metal clad feet pounded down the corridor and he made a dive for the Avengers armory. The automated system kicked in, pulling the only slightly damaged armor free and he was off the pedestal in moments, pausing only to grab a water bottle from the cooler, dumping most of it over his head and hands. He was back out the door before the suit was even properly stowed, grasping up a towel and running toward medical.

"Nat, what do we know?" He demanded, drying off his hands and scrubbing his sweaty hair as he darted past agents, most of whom backed against the narrow walls to let him pass.

"We know that medical doesn't like amateurs in surgery," She stated flatly, her tone strained. Tony gritted his teeth to keep back the biting commentary. "And that the rest of the team just landed." Without thinking Tony switched channels.

"Talk to me, Phil," he requested, his tone relaxed despite his breathlessness from running.

"The area's secure," Phil replied, succinctly. "No other injuries, and Doctor Banner's back with us."

"Good," Tony nodded despite the fact Phil couldn't see him. "Do me a favor, get the rest of the team cleaned up and in their jammies."

"I am not five!" Clint barked out angrily.

"Will do," Phil answered, ignoring him. "let me know if." His voice warbled just a fraction but Tony deliberately put it out of his mind.

"I'll keep you posted," Tony agreed, shoving the doors to medical open. "Any change?"

"Nothing," Natasha shook her head. She was standing in the middle of the small waiting room, her arms wrapped around herself as she watched the door with a furrowed brow.

"Go ahead and get cleaned up," Tony insisted, gently. "I'll keep watch, keep you all in the loop." She looked up at him, wide eyes soft and concerned and she leaned into his shoulder almost imperceptibly. He stiffened but he shook it off almost instantly, slipping a hesitant arm half way around her shoulders.

"You've been hurt worse," he stated, forcing a shrug.

"You're a really awful liar," Natasha observed.

"I am an excellent liar," Tony replied defensively, folding his arms over his chest. "you'd terrify anyone off their game." She gave him a worried half smile and he jostled her shoulder gently, turing to stare at the door to surgery.

"How is he?" Clint burst through the door what seemed like only moments later, his eyes blown wide, Thor and Banner on his heels. Bruce looked ragged, barely standing up and looking even more rumpled than usual in the sweats and t shirt Coulson had taken to packing in his bag for missions. Phil was only a few paces behind them, speaking into the coms in muffled tones.

"He's in surgery," Tony stated, grasping Barton's arm and gently steering him into one of the chairs as Bruce slumped beside him in exhaustion. "He's going to be fine, you know how tough he is. They'll get him sewn up and his body will repair itself."

"The injury was quite severe," Thor observed, his normal gregariousness completely absent.

"He's going to be in surgery a while," Tony nodded as if in confirmation. "You guys should get cleaned up, we won't know anything any time soon, but I'll wait here just in case and keep you posted.

"The doctors aren't going to tell us much anyway," Bruce stated, shaking his head.

"Stark and I are listed as his medical proxies," Phil offered, glancing away as if embarrassed. "The rest of you are listed as next of kin."

"He never told me that," Tony declared, staring at Phil in silence.

"He probably figured that anything that could injure him badly enough to need a proxy," Phil replied, swallowing. "would take him out fairly efficiently."

"Well he's wrong about that," Tony stated firmly, the faintest smile on his lips "And I'm going to be sure to rub that in later."

"Are you all right?" Natasha asked softly.

"Of course, I'm fine," He answered, his brow knitting. "Why wouldn't I be fine? I'm not the one who got shot by space pirates."

"Tony," she reached out, her hand resting on his arm. "Your hands are trembling."

Tony stared down at his hands to find them not just trembling but shaking uncontrollably. They were clean, he'd scrubbed off when he'd taken off the suit but he could still feel it, the warm tacky sensation of blood on his hands. Suddenly it was hard to get air and his vision grayed around the edges.

"Easy, Tony, breathe," Bruce declared grasping hold of him as he stumbled, Natasha's arm slipped around his waist and Clint bolted from his chair to call for a nurse.

"I'm fine," Tony insisted as he sank to the floor, only barely aware of Phil wrapping a blanket around him. He opened his mouth to say something biting but nothing came out.

"You're hyperventilating," Bruce declared gently, kneading the back of Tony's neck.

"I'm pretty sure I was holding his spleen in," Tony croaked, staring up at Bruce with wide eyes. "I think I'm entitled."

"Yeah," Bruce nodded. "Yeah, you are." Tony's eyes began to water and he gripped at Bruce's shirt, clawing at him as if hanging on for dear life.

"Don't let them put me under," he pleaded.

"I don't think they're going to need to," Natasha remarked as he blacked out.

* * *

The heart monitor beat a strong steady pace, slow and assuring, the only sound within the room apart from the soft rasping of breath. Out in the hall nurses hurried past, their quick steps clicking soft against the tile floor but it seemed not so much far away as in a different world all together, the same way the bustle of the street seemed disconnected from the peace of a nearly empty diner on a Tuesday afternoon. Warm light shone in through the window, illuminating the dust-motes that danced over the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed.

Tony drew in a shaky breath, staring down at his hands. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting here, keeping watch. It felt like an eternity but in reality it couldn't be more than an hour at most. He wasn't used to being this still, this unoccupied. He had a phone, a tablet, more than enough to busy himself but he'd been unable to focus from the moment he entered the room. So he sat, and he watched, and he waited.

He almost didn't noticed the steady increase of the monitor. He missed it entirely if he was honest with himself, the sound pacing his breathing but its significance never registering. It was the soft moan from the bed that truly alerted him and his head snapped up, eyes wide with nervousness and relief.

"Steve?" he murmured, leaning forward, his hand resting gently on the other man's arm.

"Tony," Steve's voice was cracked and breathy but his eyes were shining and a smile tugged at his lips. Tony swept up the glass of water on the table, guiding the straw to Steve's lips.

"Feeling better?" Tony asked, a smile on his face as well. Steve nodded.

"Pretty good actually," He admitted, his fingers running lightly over the bandages on his chest.

"You're already starting to heal up," Tony informed with a smug expression. "Considering your recovery pace the doctors said you could probably go home tomorrow." Steve's cheeks flushed in embarrassment beneath his grin.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You were right," he admitted sighing.

"And don't forget it," Tony declared in mock seriousness. Steve's shoulders shook in a soft laugh.

"So no time off?" he asked.

"Hell no!" Tony snapped, his brow furrowing. "I've got used to food that doesn't come in liquid form and bots can't make sandwiches."

Steve gave him a lopsided grin but it faded almost instantly and he bit his lip, swallowing as tears stung his eyes.

"Steve," Tony prompted, shifting to the edge of his chair.

"It's just..." Steve gulped, his smile returning, rueful. "I'm used to waking up in the infirmary from... nightmares of the surgery."

"Shit, Steve," Tony shook his head, looking away. Steve's hand fumbled, gripping Tony's wrist in a firm pressure.

"Thank you," Steve declared softly. Tony only nodded, wincing, his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth. He forced his gaze to meet the blond's, hoping that they could say what he couldn't find words for; How as a boy he had idolized Steve, not Captain America, Steve Rogers in all his imperfect perfectness. How Steve had been like the older brother tragically lost before Tony was ever born, the ever present shadow he could never expect to live up to but whom he could never truly despise.

"I always look out for family," he said instead, trying to brush it off.

"Yes you do," Steve nodded. "Is the team okay?"

"Everyone's fine," Tony assured. "They went to get cleaned up as soon as the doctors let us know you'd be okay, they should be back soon."

"Thanks for," Steve sighed. "well for everything, for keeping a cool head for everyone, me included. I... I know it was bad. I was pretty scared and everyone else was kind of rattled, even Phil. I didn't even know he could look rattled."

"Yeah well," Tony shrugged, pulling his hand free from Steve's grasp. "I'm not as good under pressure as you seem to think." Suddenly the room felt too small and too cramped and he gathered his feet under him, about to make a break for the door.

"Did you pass out or throw up?" Steve asked, struggling to hide a smile. Tony shot him a betrayed, withering look and Steve blushed guiltily. "I had to stitch Dum Dum back together this one time and as soon as I was done I threw up until I was dizzy. I gave myself two seconds to think about what I'd just done and I was gone. Bucky had to practically carry me back to our pickup point."

"And Dad never let you hear the end of it," Tony declared with a wry smile. Steve laughed.

"He was rubbing it in months later," Steve nodded in confirmation. "You were holding my insides inside, if you lost it a little once everything calmed down you wouldn't be the first." Tony looked a little sheepish but Steve only grinned back at him.

"You weren't worried I wasn't going to make it, were you?" Steve asked hesitantly.

"Hell no," Tony snapped, rolling his eyes. "stubborn assholes like you do not die that easily. Seriously, seventy years on ice."

"Yeah, okay, I get it," Steve held his hands up in surrender. Tony gave him a wicked smirk.

"Don't do that again," Tony stated, turning serious. "You... scared Clint."

"Yeah I wouldn't want to scare Clint," Steve agreed shyly. "You can tell him I don't have any plans for an encore."

"Good," Tony nodded. "That's..."

"Good," Steve supplied.

"Good." Tony agreed awkwardly.

"Because I was scared I wasn't going to make it," Steve admitted, picking at the scratchy hospital issue bed sheet.

"We have your back, Cap," Tony promised softly. "that's not going to happen." Steve drew in an unsteady breath, forcing a faint smile of relief. Tony returned it with one of his own.

"Good," Steve murmured softly, his cheeks coloring. The rattle of heavy footsteps and raised voices floated down the corridor toward them. His smile returned and he chuckled at the sound of Thor and Clint arguing, Natasha taking the occasional verbal jab at the pair of them. Tony glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head. He reached out, giving Steve's arm a squeeze.

"Real good," he nodded in agreement.


End file.
